


current needs

by preromantics



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Cigarettes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-11
Updated: 2011-05-11
Packaged: 2017-10-19 07:05:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preromantics/pseuds/preromantics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-kiss filming cigarette sharing. <i>Chris huffs out a breath through his nose, turning on the car and slapping his hand towards the volume on the radio, because he's pretty sure S&M isn't exactly the song he wants blasting through the speakers with Darren lounging next to him. "I -- sure, a cigarette," he says, "At a gas station or something, where they sell them."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	current needs

**Author's Note:**

> Original LJ posting date: 4/13/11.

The parking lot has more air than the estate -- of course it does, it's outside, but logic isn't entirely at the top of Chris' priorities right now, with the way his lips sort of feel like they don't belong to him at the moment and his eyes are having trouble adjusting to the sun outside. 

He can hear footsteps crunching on the gravel ground of the parking lot behind him, and he's got a pretty good idea who they belong to. "Hey, hey," Darren calls, once Chris is almost already at his car. "I have reliable sources that tell me I'm not  _that_  bad of a kisser, no need to actually run away."

Chris turns a few steps from his car and raises an eyebrow, mostly because he's not sure what to do with his face. "I -- wardrobe is going to kill you," he says, gesturing at Darren's tophalf, where he's still in his blazer and the rest of the uniform, the tails of his button-up untucked and resting over the top of his normal jeans and a pair of -- sandals. "If the fashion police don't, first."

"Ouch," Darren says, jogging the few steps between them both to catch up. "I saw you leaving and I wasn't exactly prepared to have to do the whole running after you thing, so this is what you get, man, sorry." 

Chris shakes his head, but manages to smile because he can't help it, and he's mostly back in his own headspace now that he's outside but he still needs a small break from the set, now that they've finally wrapped one of the most important scenes Chris can remember ever filming. He needs a small break from Darren, too, but Darren is already leaning against the passenger door when Chris opens the driver's side, and Chris can barely see him grinning over the top of the car.

"Where are we going?" Darren asks, and he slips into the car easily, buckling in near tandem with Chris and looking over at him expectantly, just a few shades shy of a joke. Chris thinks it might be some way of him checking to see if he's okay, which -- he's totally okay and fine and Darren's  _weird_ , but. He can't fault Darren for maybe wanting to sneak away for a few minutes, either. 

"To get a cigarette," Chris says. He was just going to sit in his car for a while and maybe text Ashley, since her inquiring texts about the day were the only ones Chris felt up to answering -- Lea's texts through-out the time Chris and Darren had been filming had gotten progressively more aggressive and full of exclamations and also sort of disturbingly personal, and Chris had read them through while he changed quickly back into his clothes and caught his own face in the mirror and never wanted to have to make the same expression again.

"You were serious?" Darren asks, settling back into the seat, looking automatically comfortable in a way that Chris isn't quite ready to feel. "I'm game."

Chris huffs out a breath through his nose, turning on the car and slapping his hand towards the volume on the radio, because he's pretty sure S&M isn't exactly the song he wants blasting through the speakers with Darren lounging next to him. "I -- sure, a cigarette," he says, "At a gas station or something, where they sell them."

Darren laughs, full, and starts humming Rihanna even though Chris is pretty sure not even a bar of the song made it out before he turned it off, and it's not his fault Rihanna is capable of producing music that automatically wakes him up on his commute. 

The nearest gas station parking lot is full of potholes, and the inside is pretty sketchy. The guy at the counter looks bored, and then mildly interested when Darren and Chris walk in, probably because of the way Darren holds the door open and then bows. He looks bored again when he has to ID Chris for the cigarettes, though, and Chris gets more satisfaction than he should out of elbowing Darren under his ribs when he starts to laugh. 

Once they get back to the car, and Chris suddenly has a Darren-lit cigarette resting between too fingers, and he's inhaling, and he would totally elbow Darren again if he wasn't bent over against the steering wheel coughing. 

Darren pats his back with not much sense of placement, laughing too loudly for the space in the car. 

"Gross," Chris says, when he can speak, because it's the first word he can think of that doesn't involve punching. 

"You're the one who went with menthol because the box was a nicer color," Darren says, reaching out and snatching the cigarette from Chris' fingers and inhaling, looking a lot better when he does -- or, a lot less like a fish out of water. Chris still feels like coughing. 

"Again?" Darren asks, holding his hand out, and Chris shakes his head but reaches out anyway, momentarily distracted by the way Darren breathes out the smoke in his mouth, easily. "You're right, though, tastes like shit." 

"Not my best idea," Chris agrees. 

"It's too bad it's pointless to shotgun cigarette smoke," Darren says, passing the cigarette back into Chris' hand and slumping down against the passenger seat. 

Chris takes it back between two fingers and contemplates taking another drag before flicking it out through the crack in his window. The way is Darren grinning across at him is probably less unnerving than it should be, and it takes a minute for Chris' mind to catch up. Shotgun -- oh. 

Chris rolls his eyes, his fingers tapping absently against the bottom of the steering wheel in front of him so he has something to do with his hands now that the cigarette's gone. "Next you'll suggest hotboxing my car, you hippie," he says, though he's sort of caught up in the idea of what he vaguely understands shotgunning to entail. Mouths, mostly. 

"I would never," Darren says, but his mouth is still turned up and he looks ridiculous slumped down in the passenger seat, uniform tie loose around the first few undone buttons on his shirt. "Actually -- maybe, but no, because it's harder to lead into making out with just hotboxing a car. That would require actual moves, something that's not my specialty."

Chris laughs, though it's sort of shaky and maybe a little breathless, because Darren isn't actually asking to make out with him -- Chris is pretty sure they've done that enough for today. Or, well, not that they would outside of -- anyway -- there isn't anything to smoke. 

"Your face," Darren says, exaggerating the words. "A blunt for your thoughts, Colfer." 

Chris scrunches his face up. "You -- how long would it take you to walk home from here?"

Darren looks contemplative for a second, and he shrugs against the seat, sitting up a little more. "Why? So I can go get drugs to corrupt you with?" 

"No," Chris says, shaking his head and not thinking about various definitions of corrupting, "I'm trying to decide how humane it would be to kick you out and drive away." 

Darren reaches out and knocks his knuckles against Chris shoulder, not really enough to hurt but enough for Chris to feel it, and his fingers sort of absently drag down Chris' upper arm before Darren lets his hand fall away entirely. "So is that a no on the shotgunning or the making out? Or the both?" 

Chris doesn't answer, mostly because Darren looks pleased and a little satisfied when Chris just rolls his eyes and starts the car back up, but actually because he's not sure how to answer with words that don't amount to  _yes to both_. The short ride back to the estate is mostly punctuated with Darren trying to sing along with some sort of awful club song on the radio, and when they pull in Chris feels pretty normal again, even when Darren pockets his pack of cigarettes before they leave the car and walks so close to Chris that their shoulders keep brushing on each step.


End file.
